


not that kinda girl

by writing_good_vibes



Series: i see you only at night [4]
Category: Death Machine (1994)
Genre: F/M, Morning After, Oral Sex, Panties, Reader-Insert, jack being weird as per usual, jack can be a considerate lover sometimes, rated m to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_good_vibes/pseuds/writing_good_vibes
Summary: Jack collects souvenirs.(Jack Dante x Reader)
Relationships: Jack Dante/Reader
Series: i see you only at night [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168649





	not that kinda girl

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again, with extra special thanks to the person that left a comment on part 2, it meant a lot to me !!

You'd slept over at Jack's office again.

He was gone when you woke up, probably away causing minor to major inconveniences for the board. Was he meant to be at a meeting today? You knew he never went of course, but sometimes he would make his presence known around the building to make his not-turning-up all the more obvious.

You looked around the floor blearily from the mattress, trying to spot where your clothes had landed the previous night. You thought you could see your jeans, balled up at the end of the bed, and your t-shirt might be under the shelving units closest to you, or it could be Jack's, or it might just be an old oil rag.

Dreading the ache you knew you would feel when you got up, you readied yourself to stand. You needed the bathroom anyway, so you really ought to get dressed. And besides, you didn't really like hanging around here during work hours, because even though Jack did very little in the way of conventional work, you were paranoid that someone would be stupid enough to come down to check on him. They probably wouldn't be happy finding some random chick in the basement of one of the richest armament companies this side of the Atlantic.

As you crawled around collecting your things, you found most of your clothes amongst the clutter on the floor... except for your underwear.

Where have they gone? You tentatively looked amongst the junk that littered the work benches and desks, poking through magazines and spare circuit board parts, careful not to knock the action figures that stood on the edge of the shelves. You tried to avoid looking at some of the more questionable supplies, like the EEE under the desk and the multiple boxes of ammo pushed to the back of one of the shelves.

***

Last night was, you had to admit, somewhat of a blur. It had been a bad week at work for both of you, or you at least _thought_ it had been a bad week for him too. Beyond his borderline nonsensical chatter, Jack didn't really tell you much about what he did. You supposed it was for the best, you didn't want to get caught up in the weapons biz, and you were pretty sure Jack's genius-level intellect was being used for utterly unsavoury reasons. But his surprising commitment to confidentiality meant you were never sure just how work went for him on a daily basis.

You'd arrived at his door and he made no effort at small talk, cold hands grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him.

He kissed you fervently, hands pawing at your face, through your hair. Pulling you through the lines of shelves, able to navigate his domain even when decidedly preoccupied, he eventually pushed you down in his office chair. The TV was silent, but Tom and Jerry was playing, a firework blowing poor Tom sky high. Your attention was swiftly directed else where when, with a deftness that made you shiver, Jack pulled your jeans and panties down in one go. 

Spreading your knees apart, he leant forward, and _O how he made your head spin._

You hooked a leg over his shoulder, desperate for more, "You better not stop," you gasped. 

The hand on your thigh squeezed tighter. 

***

At some point in the night, you'd ended up in bed, face down, being much less considerately railed into the mattress. 

Afterwards, you fell asleep to the flickering lights of the TV, Jack sleeping restlessly beside you, your hand stroking the valley between his sharp shoulder blades.

***

Okay, so, your panties went AWOL around the office chair. You assumed he just threw them on the desk, or the floor, but you'd scoured as much of the room as you were willing to, and _still_ they were nowhere to be found. 

Sighing, you began to get dressed anyway, you weren't sure what time it was, but you couldn't hang around waiting for Jack all day. To your discomfort, you had to put your jeans on sans panties. 

Just as you were doing a last check for anything that may have gone rogue during the night (namely your wallet and apartment key), the hydraulic door to the office hissed open, and Jack strode in, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

When he saw you were looking to leave, he frowned, "Are you leaving?" 

"Yeah," you replied, "I have work tonight and I need to go home first. And I hate hanging round here knowing there are actual people upstairs."

He looked away sullenly. 

"I'll come back soon, maybe tomorrow?"

He shrugged in that petulant way of his. 

Smiling, you shouldered past him. When you got to the door, you heard him behind you.

"Missing something?" he asks. 

You turn around. His eyes are burning with mischief; it radiated off of him. From his coat pocket he produces something, dangling it from his index finger. It takes you a moment to realise, _those are your panties_. Your jaw drops slightly. He's been carrying them around with him all morning. He must have pocketed them when he took them off you last night.

That _bastard_. 

You snort out an incredulous laugh. Then you smirk, "Keep them."

Turning your back on him, you leave, not even having to look at him to see the shit-eating grin on his face.


End file.
